


The Examination

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, F/M, Medical Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: In 16th Century Muscovite Russia, Crowley is working as a doctor for the bride show. He's not expecting to see Aziraphale there, much less for her have accidentally gotten herself selected a candidate.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 97
Collections: Love and Lust Through the Ages Volume II





	The Examination

**Author's Note:**

> so this was in Love and Lust Through The Ages Vol. 2, but now it's also here!

Crowley blinked as the lady Azonia Bogevna Fell walked in, her round, porcelain face framed by her cream, lace veil. She was smiling before she’d even laid eyes on him. Clearly, she’d already known he was in Moscow.

Regardless, she asked: “Crowley, what _are_ you doing here?” She extended her soft, dainty hand, and he took it, helping her onto the raised examination bench. It was a solid, utilitarian thing, with no padding and intimidating stirrups, having been assembled quickly in preparation for the bride show and its 20 or so young women, one of whom would become the next tsarina. Crowley had staunchly used the table to give the different ladies a place to sit, forgoing its accessories. 

“You’re posing as a doctor again,” Aziraphale was still talking. “And with no beard!” she tittered, her hands fidgeting in her lap, looking exceptionally pink against the blue and silver brocade. “What must the others think?” 

“That I’m an effeminate foreigner, and likely that I prefer men. What are you doing here, angel?” 

She reached up to fiddle with the edge of her veil. She was blushing. “Oh, I’m on assignment, of course. I’ve been sent to mentor a young woman. Ekaterina. Have you met her yet? I believe she’s been through.” 

Crowley shrugged, looking down at the various medical tools and notes laid out. He’d given a general examination to almost 15 women at this point, and he wasn’t sure he could remember a single one of their names. “I meant what are you doing at the Kremlin? For a bride show?” 

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale laughed. She shifted and cleared her throat. “Naturally, I attended to watch over Ekaterina. But an advisor came by and mistook me for one of the participants. He said he was ‘excited to see a mature option,’ as the tsar already has six children, and he oughtn’t have more, because you know what they say about children of a second wife being evil. And the advisor decided that I was—” She met Crowley’s eye and looked away. “It doesn’t matter. He thought that I might please the tsar. I tried to explain, but the damage was done.” 

She still wouldn’t look at him, sitting straight and tall and unbreathing for a moment before she sighed, her chest heaving as the words tumbled out: “You just have to help me! I know I won’t be picked but if… And I’ve used up my miracle quota for this quarter, unless there’s an emergency!” 

“I would imagine being chosen to wed the tsar would be an emergency,” Crowley said, crossing his arms. 

“I really just can’t tell with Gabriel sometimes,” Aziraphale murmured, a hand pressing over her chest. Suddenly, she seemed to realize that she’d said too much. She reached out to him, catching the sleeve of his shirt. “Would you help me? Please?” 

“Gah.” Crowley flinched, feeling heat creep up his face. “Don’t ask like that! Of course, I’ll get you out of this.” 

Aziraphale practically glowed with relief. “Thank you, my boy! Oh, thank you!” 

“Sure,” Crowley had to look away, or else he’d start thinking sappy, unhelpful thoughts. “Got any requests for what I should put down? Flat feet? Excessive crying?” 

“Wouldn’t it be best if I simply wasn’t a virgin?” she asked, like it was a normal question. 

Crowley nearly choked on the flood of saliva in his mouth. “Yeah, sure. I can put… that. On the form.” 

“Really, dear?” Aziraphale sounded so delighted, Crowley had to look at her again. Even her hands looked flushed, plump and full of life. Her wrists, barely visible, with their translucent skin and blue veins, caught his eye as well. “Would you really do that for me?” 

“Erk, yeah.” Crowley was already scribbling it down. 

When he looked back up, Aziraphale had tugged off her cap and veil, her white-blonde hair curling around her shoulders, messy from being covered. With a bright, sweet smile, she started to lift up her skirts, revealing her little blue shoes—clearly French— and her demure ankles. 

She was almost baring her well-curved calf when Crowley finally shook himself into action. “What are you doing?” 

She froze. “Should I take everything off? It’s only that I don’t know how much time we’ll have, and you’d have to help me out of and then back into my robe.” The skirt was still partially raised, her white-stockinged leg only a hint. She was starting to lean back, like she might hook her feet in the stirrups.

“No, I mean,” he swallowed. He could feel his blush creeping to his ears, and he tugged at his embroidered collar. “I don’t need to examine you.” 

She relaxed and started moving again, laying back on the bench and drawing her knees up. “I know, dear, but my virginity. If you wouldn’t mind?” She set her feet in the stirrups, the heavy skirt still offering some modesty but not enough for Crowley to form a proper thought. She pulled up her skirts so slowly, Crowley thought it might have been a tease. No, he was certain it was a tease. 

“I know for a fact you’re not a virgin.”

“My effort is. It’s new, and I haven’t had cause to use it.” 

“Angel,” Crowley cleared his throat, trying to steel himself. “I can just make a note. There’s no need — ”

“And lie?” Aziraphale’s eyes were wide and shocked. Her skirt was brushing against her thighs, and while Crowley couldn’t see her pussy, he could smell it. If he flicked his tongue against the air, he’d suffocate on the scent. 

“You lie all the time, Aziraphale,” Crowley reminded, staying very still. 

“And what if another doctor decides to check?” she asked. She wiggled her hips, scooting closer on the bench. “Shall I take out my breasts? Would that help?” 

“No!” Crowley rushed, turning to stop her. He finally caught sight of her naked quim and nearly tripped over himself. Looking was a mistake. The sweet, virginal thing was pink and tender, crowned with thick, blonde curls and shining slick down its center. “Um.” Crowley licked his lips, and when he glanced back up to Aziraphale’s face, she was smiling. 

“I know for a fact,” she simpered, “That you know what to do with it. You know what I’m asking for.” 

“I don’t think I have the time to give you what you’re asking for,” Crowley said, voice thick. He reached for the front of his second shirt and then paused. “Are you sure?” 

Aziraphale huffed, flopping onto her back and wriggling even more forward, like that was an answer. When he didn’t move, she pushed back up. “Yes, I’m sure.” 

Crowley crossed to her and started to undo his trousers with one hand, reaching with the other to brush up against her sex and say hello. “We’ll have to be quick.” He worked a finger in, reveling in how welcoming she was. 

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale settled back. Crowley situated himself between her raised, spread thighs. Her skin was so smooth, so pale, and it amazed Crowley to feel how warm she was, even here, in places which likely hadn’t been sunned in years. Warm-blooded, he thought, and he slotted against her to leech some of that heat. 

Her chest heaved under its thick coverings as he slowly worked inside of her. Her breath shuddered, but she mostly stayed quiet. In fact, it was Crowley who lost his silence first, moaning once fully sheathed inside her, feeling her bear down around his cock. 

“You’ll be careful with me,” she said, breathless but only from excitement. After all, her corporation had been built with the intention of accommodation and earthly service; she was made to be open. 

Still he nodded, trying to keep the whine in his throat from escaping. Maybe it had been a while for him too. He drew close to her, sure he could smother his noises into her shoulder to keep anyone from possibly hearing.

With her legs held in place, it was simple enough to rut forward, rock out a little—but never very far—and fuck back in. She put her arms around him, like he'd wanted but would never ask for. 

“Your prick feels wonderful,” she said, burning the words against his ear. He groaned, jerking his hips forward harder, and she gasped: a hiccuped, tiny sound, but definitely a gasp. “Does it,” she started, her voice now trembling as he scrambled at her thighs, using them for leverage to really start hitting in. “Does it feel good?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Crowley nodded, face still pressed against her, although now he was less at her shoulder and more savoring her soft breast. 

“Oh,” she said, and he varied up his thrusting, now closer, dirtier, digging into her so her strong, little hands would clamber up his back. “Oh, tell me, tell me you like it,” she begged. 

“Feels so good,” he said, barely lifting his head. Pulling up let him work a hand between them, finding her clit and tapping over it so he could enjoy how she twitched and clenched around him. “Tight,” he got out. “You’re so wet, fuck.” 

“Make me wetter,” she said. “Come inside me.” Crowley choked at the words, hips jolting, losing their rhythm. “Please fill — fill my hole, please,” she begged. 

“Yeah,” he rambled, and he finally pulled up all the way to look down at her as he plowed in. Laying soft and bright for him on the examination table, legs spread whorishly. Crowley almost said some very sappy, unhelpful things. 

Instead, he came inside her.

He eased her legs out of the stirrups afterwards and miracled away the mess, because his bosses wouldn’t care about that kind of cleanup in his quarterly miracle report. After straightening her stockings and skirt, he helped her on her feet and put an arm around her waist when she said her legs felt shaky. 

“I’ll finish my report and have you and your charge on your way soon,” he said, voice quiet, because she was so close and he didn’t want to startle her away. 

She reached up and, slowly, removed his sunglasses, holding them while she took in his face, mouth parted and doe-eyed. They didn’t kiss, because that wasn’t the done thing, but she did press her mouth against his clean-shaven cheek. Without a word, she handed him his glasses back and turned away. She picked up her spotless cap and veil and dusted them off before starting to re-affix them. Crowley watched.

On her way out, she paused. “It was good to see you.” She hesitated, and then added: “I’ll be heading back, to Tver. Where Ekaterina lives with her boyar uncle. I’ve told him that I have a foreign cousin who might stop by to visit. He said she was welcome any time. There’s quite a lot to do in Tver, but not much evil to thwart.” 

“Oh,” Crowley said, nearly dropping his glasses. He clutched them tighter, hearing a tiny crack that he was sure wouldn’t be an actual problem. “I’ve never been to Tver.” 

“What a shame. I’ll be off now,” she said, and she walked out. 

Crowley put his sunglasses back on and finished his notes. When listing the reason Azonia Bogevna Fell was unfit for the bride show, he wrote that she was already married. 

**Author's Note:**

> throw me a comment if you liked it! i really appreciate hearing from y'all
> 
> ([Follow me on my professional fanfiction twitter](https://twitter.com/gigglesnortPro) or [just come kick it with me on my tumbly](https://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com))


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